


The Great Escape

by AlphaVulpeculae



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Gen, Humor, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, Rescue, Road Trips, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaVulpeculae/pseuds/AlphaVulpeculae
Summary: In true Alex-fashion, a mission goes awry and Yassen pulls him from the explosion. Instead of spending his post-op down-time alone, he drags the disgruntled teenager with him until he can sort out what to do with him.Set post-Eagle Strike3/14 - under construction for edits
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Comments: 29
Kudos: 83





	1. Unlikely Aid

Yassen manually set the timer on the last explosive in the back corner of the Bangladore Infectious Disease Laboratory. Strolling purposely down the corridor, he scanned his counterfeit identification badge, applied his handprint to the receptacle, and conducted the retinal scanners. It took some time for his team to hack the security systems, but despite their flaws in efficiency they had been successful. 

Scorpia refused to allow further errors; Yassen was hired specifically to finish the task and tie loose ends. The vial of genetically modified malaria agent and its respective antidote sat securely in a chest pocket outfitted with thermal insulation to ensure it remains the an appropriate temperature. 

As he neared the final security exit before the main corridor to the facility, the sound of someone banging heavily on a passing supply closet door echoed in the vaulted space. 

The board member who had supplied the information to Scorpia and have the vial of the disease stolen and sold to his own gain had scheduled this incident to be at an off hour where there were the fewest number of employees. The hallways surrounding the laboratory should be cleared, while staff in other areas of the facility would merely be a mere liability. 

He paused and considered ignoring the individual clearly trapped in the closet. Something possessed him to disregard the consideration, unlock the door, and pull it open. 

A small, lean figure was seated on the floor, tied up and gagged. His feet had been pounding on the door as his upper body leaned heavily against the perpendicular wall. While the boy’s blonde hair was dirtied and his face bruised, Yassen narrowed his eyes in recognition:

_ Rider’s kid. _

“You need to leave,” Yassen said flatly, leaning down to cut the ties at the boy’s ankles and pull him up to his feet by his elbow. 

The boy protested angrily, struggling against his bindings and mumbling with garbled speech into the gag.Yassen noticed whoever tied the kid had not only tied his hands together but had been proficient enough to secure his tied hands to his midsection creating something akin to a straight jacket out of rope. How odd. 

Yassen pulled out the gag, before hauling him up to drag him towards the exit but regretted it immediately as the kid protested wildly, “Let go of me! I can’t leave yet. I don’t have the antidote.” 

He pulled fruitlessly against Yassen’s ironclad grip until Yassen ran out of patience. Jerking the boy by his shirt to gain his undivided attention. “You will either leave this building or die in explosion. The choice is yours.” He let go and felt no remorse as left the kid to fall on his tailbone on the floor. 

He would’ve walked away too if the kid hadn’t made the most pitiful moan from his uncomfortably strained upright position. 

Looking back, he noted the dried blood on the side of his head and—now in the brighter lighting—the kid’s pupils unnaturally large and non-reactive. 

“Восьмой” he whispered under his breath. Checking his watch, he knew he already wasted much of his time to get out. 

Pulling the kid up by the arm again, he half carried half dragged him out a side exit. It wasn’t his intended exit point but it was the closest one that would offer them plenty of time to get out of the blast radius. Alex’s eyes were still wide open in shock, but he hadn’t protested further. 

Yassen pulled him down the hill and across the field from where the laboratory facility sat and notified his extraction team through comms about his change of plans for pick-up location—purposefully leaving out any detail regarding his additional passenger. If there were any concerns about available seats, he had no qualms of remedying that by removing one of his team’s existing members. They had hardly been competent and Scorpia would not question his actions are be concerned with the loss. To Scorpia, they were expendable; he was not...and by extension, neither was Alex. 

The boy in question was now lying awkwardly in the grass, curled up, and incoherent. 

“Alex.” He shook the kid’s shoulder as urgently as he could without worsening his head injury. 

“Ian?” Alex asked reverently, eyes weakly meeting his gaze. Hallucinations were never a good sign and mistaking his uncle’s killer for his uncle? Even less. He would need to arrange medical assistance for the boy shortly if he wanted to get him out. 

“You will be gagged and will remain silent. Do not try anything or you will be left to die. Understood?”

Alex’s eyes focused for a fraction of a second, expression hardening, as he offered a steady acquiescence, “Understood.” 

Yassen affixed the gag back over his mouth but any concerns of Alex acting out were abated in the next minute when Alex’s form went limp in the grass, passing out cold. 

An SUV pulled up along the path and—considering Alex was unconscious away—Yassen opened the trunk to settle Alex in there. He arranged multiple thermal fleece blankets from the first-aid supply kits to cushion the boy’s head and cover his form, before climbing into the vehicle himself. 

The renowned assassin answered any questioning looks from the team with a hard look and terse part-explanation, part-threat, “He is my responsibility and will be dealt with accordingly.”

Stopping at his designated drop-off point, he tore out the pocket attachment comprising vial and antidote to leave in the train station locker for Scorpia to collect in place of the full jacket, as originally intended. 

He collected the jacket, colored contacts, and black duffle left for him in the locker, fitting them on before having his transport drive him to the airport. 

The team did not question the spare jacket and him bundling Alex in it—it was not unusual for Scorpia to hide the full objective of the mission from the team hired for assistance. Considering how much or how little they wish to include the teenager in their post-op report, he might not even need to address the matter with Scorpia. 

Bundled and carried to the helicopter reserved for his personal use, Alex had become near-dead weight on what should have been his post-op downtime. 

Still, as Alex would not be conscious for their flight, Yassen double checked the boy’s seatbelt and was mindful for his head wounds when setting on his ear protection in the passenger seat of the Bell 206 helicopter. 

With the boy mostly covered in the oversized jacket, Yassen was asked no questions and directed to depart by the attendant. 

The flight was quiet and Yassen took the time to consider his dubiously consenting passenger. Hunter should not have died and Ian was a pitiful excuse for a guardian if he left Hunter’s son to MI6. It disgusted him. Now that MI6 repeatedly sent in a 14 year old with minimal training headfirst into missions that were dangerous for people twice his age and left the boy regularly injured, he was left addressing the result of a series of poor decision-making. 

Landing at his destination, he strapped back on his bag before cutting away Alex’s bindings and lifting him into his arms to carry to his parked SUV. This brought another matter to his attention: Alex was far too light for his age—a concern he hoped to address when he got the kid medical assistance. 

Calling ahead as he drove, he made arrangements with a former acquaintance from the military to have the boy’s medical concerns addressed. 

He should just leave the boy there; leave him and tip off an MI6 contact to allow them to handle his pick-up. After all, Alex was not his responsibility. However, remembering a distinct memory from his work alongside Hunter, he felt an obligation to at least assist in the boy’s recovery. He should care little with what would happen to the boy after. 

Carrying Alex into the side entrance of the local hospital Emergency Services, he was immediately given a room and treated directly by Sergei, a formal doctor in the Russian military. 

After greeted enthusiastically, Sergei asked “Yours?” in Russian with some confusion. 

“No,” he said bluntly offering no further embellishment. He would not explain further and notably, Sergei asked nothing else on the mattereither. 

“He’s not bad,” Sergei explained, “A bit malnourished, mildly dehydrated, and few superficial wounds...the worst being that nasty blow to the head but he will be good soon enough. No more hits to the head though.” 

“Weight?”

“He a bit underweight but not unusually so. 

Yassen nodded. 

“Food, water, sleep and he be good to go.” 

Alex had his hair shaved in spots where stitches were applied, looked altogether too pale, and had his form dwarfed by the hospital bed and the jacket but Yassen wrapped him back up it in and carried Alex back to the SUV. 

Mind made up, Yassen would settle the injured child in the bed at his safe house with the assortment of medicines from the doctor to aid in his recovery. He owed it to Hunter at least that much. 

Unused to sharing his safe house with another, it was tricky business traversing the area with an unconscious passenger in tow but considering its location, it would be ideal for handling a likely-disgruntled teenager. 

When waking Alex at the prescribed times throughout the night for medicine, he remained unusually compliant, though considering his earlier hallucinations of him being Ian, it was a sure sign he would not remember much of it anyway. 

Against his better judgement—Alex was too young—but cognizant of the fact that Alex was certainly a  _ Rider _ , he tied off some cloth around Alex’s wrist to ease any chafing before cuffing the wrist to the headboard. He didn’t need the boy running off and getting himself killed; it would be counterproductive to his efforts thus far. 

When he heard the distinctive jingle of metal clanking several hours later, he grabbed a glass of water and the bottle of medicine and strolled in. 


	2. Dubious Trust

Alex’s eyes snapped to his when he entered. “You,” he accused. He pulled on the cuffed, jingling the chain for emphasis. 

“A precaution,” Yassen explained as if it was the most obvious thing to do. 

Yassen kicked the door shut with his foot before approaching Alex carefully, almost treating Alex as he would a feral animal—with a cool wariness. 

“You are to take two capsules after eating. There is soup heating on the stove.” 

Yassen handed the glass to Alex’s unrestrained non-dominant hand. 

Alex eyed Yassen cautiously as he lifted the water cup. 

“It is simply water. Though if you refuse the medicine, it will be crushed and added to the water.”

Alex took a skeptical sip, as if he’d be able to taste any poison it contained. Then, letting his thirst supersede caution, polished off the rest of the water in the glass and set it back on the nightstand. 

Yassen retrieved the cup and carried it out the door and down the hall. Listening carefully to Yassen’s footsteps to get a better idea of the floor plan of the cabin, he was remiss to note he could hear nothing: no creaking floorboards, no clinking glassware, no footsteps. It was inhuman but perhaps something he should’ve expected being kidnapped by a world renown assassin. 

A few moments later, Yassen returned with a full cup of water, a small bowl of chicken and vegetable soup, and spoon. 

While still retaining a healthy skepticism about the water, he looked unsettled by the bowl of soup. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“You need water, food, rest, and medicine,” Yassen answered pragmatically. 

“Why do you  _ care _ ?” Alex’s face showed his clear irritation and anger at the unsought assistance. 

“Is MI6 awaiting your check-in? Are they concerned over your delayed return? I can have you returned to your previous state in the closet, or rather to its charred remains, if that is your preference.” 

Alex’s notable silence was answer enough. 

“Eat and take the medicine.” 

Yassen went to leave when the excess jingling caught his attention. Alex was using his free hand to hold the soup bowl while using his cuffed hand to pull himself upright, his movements awkward and relatively unsuccessful. 

Yassen watched for another moment as Alex struggled with the handcuff before making his decision. 

“If you prove to be troublesome, I will cuff both wrists and feed you with a straw,” he intoned coldly.

Alex nodded mutely and stilled his movements while Yassen produced a key seemingly from air, locked him, and hid it swiftly before Alex saw where. 

Yassen may have left him while he was tied to the post but with Alex unhindered, he sat in the chair in the corner of the room and observed. 

Typically, when Alex faced off against adversaries he could disarm them with sarcasm, get them angry.  Let’s give it a shot, he thought cheekily. 

“You’re kinda creepy when you stare like that, you know,” Alex joked, purposely slurping loudly. “Do you like them young? Is that why I get to be handcuffed to your bed? You’re not exactly my type.” 

Yassen did not rise to the bait of insinuation. 

“You can be cuffed on the floor if you prefer.” 

“Why? You can’t expect to be bested by a fourteen year old. You’re one of the world’s greatest assassins and I’m just a kid.”

Yassen regarded him coldly in a way that would even scare grown adults and yet Alex only offered up his most innocent look. 

“You are a Rider and are accustomed to being underestimated. I will not make that mistake.”

Alex paused for a moment in slurping the remaining soup from the lip of the bowl; his interest piqued at the mention of his namesake. 

“Was my dad—? No, never mind.” He finished his soup a little quieter before he took the two pills with water. 

Yassen didn’t comment further, secured Alex’s wrist back to the bedpost, and left carrying the empty dishes. 

As soon as Yassen left, Alex counted down the seconds the man was away, using his first trip as reference. Thankfully, Alex finished loosening the spring through the worn hole in the mattress before he reached zero. 

Now he had to make a decision: he could try and get the cuffs off immediately or wait until the next time Yassen stopped by to ensure he had more time to escape. 

_No. He needed to get out of here and the sooner the better._ He cringed at the metal scratching sound the spring made in the hole but prayed it wouldn’t attract the attention of his captor. 

Making quick work of the handcuffs, he carefully stepped out of bed, taking extra care in case of squeaky springs and wood panels along the floor. 

He found the window had been nailed shut but—in squinting through the glare and glancing out—noticed he couldn’t see anything but an expanse of snow in an open field for miles. 

Next, he tried the only other door in the bedroom—aside from the one Yassen used to leave—a came across a relatively empty closet. The vents were far too narrow for any human, even a kid, to enter and prying the window open would take time and tools, of which he had neither. 

He could reattach the cuff and try to catch Yassen by surprise but even with the advantage of surprise, he doubted he’d ever overpower him; he’d likely end up shot anyway. 

So, he did the only thing left: he strolled down the hall as casually as possible and took a seat at the kitchen table as Yassen was chopping vegetables, likely for their next meal. 

Attempt #2 of trying to get a rise out of Yassen failed miserably and Alex’s feelings were hurt by the fact that Yassen didn’t even have the decency to look surprised at his escape. 

“This is a cabin in the middle of nowhere in winter. The handcuffs are overkill at that point. Was that all a test?” 

Yassen ignored him impassively. 

Something about the man’s nonchalance irked him. “You tricked me,” he accused stonily. 

“I did no such thing,” Yassen replied evenly. 

“But you’re not surprised I got out.”

“You’re too much like your father to let handcuffs hinder your stubbornness. Though it took longer than I anticipated.”

Alex still pouted and silence fell on the two. Soon the sound of chopping vegetables and water boiling filled the space, cooling Alex’s temper. 

Thoughts about the connection between the cold-hearted killer and his father would not stop rattling around in his head, though he was still annoyed at the handcuff situation. 

Figuring they had a lot of time anyway and Ian never spoke of his brother, Alex resigned himself and got straight to the point, asking quietly, “Am I really like my father?”

“No.” Yassen seemed find humor in the revelation and Alex was confused. 

“But you said—“

“I did.”

Yassen continued in the kitchen almost contented with his partial answer. 

Perhaps it was teenage hormones, perhaps it was the aftermath of another exhausting mission, or even the medication but Alex’s patience dissipated and he got to his feet, inadvertently knocking over his chair and cringed when he heard something behind him break. “Ugh! Why are you doing this? This is humiliating. It’s bad enough I’m held captive and now you’re just toying with me! Just kill me already—” 

Glass crunched under Yassen’s boots but it didn’t deter him the slightest. Alex was shoved against the wall behind him with the back of Yassen’s forearm cutting off his air supply. 

Alex’s head was spinning and his hands and feet were scrambling for purchase on anything solid. 

“You’re a child in an adult’s world,” Yassen said venomously in his face. “If I were holding you captive you would not be offered meals and medicine in bed, you would be tied down and immobilized so you can do nothing but watch and scream as I pry your nails off of your nail beds.” 

Alex was clawing at his forearm and fell unceremoniously to the floor onto the shattered glass when Yassen released him. 

With the lack of air and damage to his throat, his eyes watered and he could hardly speak. “If my father—“

“If your father were here and suspected you had anything valuable to give, he’d have tied you up stripped of all your nails and likely missing a finger by now so he’d have one to send to your agency with a ransom note.” 

Alex was stunned, hurt, betrayed.  _ No, his dad wasn’t a— _ “You’re wrong.” Alex choked out. 

“Did Ian lie and tell you he was a hero?”

Alex’s hesitation was telling enough. 

“No? You’re father was an assassin. One of Scorpia’s bests. And he was my personal mentor.” 

Alex had had enough and scrambled back to the bedroom, slamming the door and sat with his back against it. 

His fingers prickled with pain where glass shards had embedded into the skin. After shaking the looser ones out, he distracted himself by picking out the deeper shards before his hands were just bleeding of their our right. 

He pressed his hands into the gray sweatpants he wore, letting the cotton staunch some of the blood. 

His head was spinning, whether from the smell of his own blood, the recent information, or his recovering head injury, he didn’t know. But his swept the shards into the corner with his sleeve, taking care not to let any shards linger and moved to lean against the foot of the bed. 

Laying back in the bed utterly repulsed him and he intended to be as stubborn as he could manage in their close living situation. 

Lying curled up on the cold, hard floor, he finally physically felt just as miserable as he was emotionally. Sometime later, he startled to the of the door creaking open. A bowl of steaming chicken and vegetable soup was set by his side on the floor and Yassen left without further word. 

Alex stubbornly debated whether or not to eat it until long after it’d gone cold. 

Finally, he had enough of his stomach grumbling at the smell of the cooked meal. However, scarfing down the soup did little to stave off his hunger. He didn’t recall eating anything the last day or two when he was partially conscious and even less when he was away on his mission. 

Setting down the empty bowl and spoon, he thought about the events over the last few days. Getting caught snooping at the laboratory was less than ideal and, even though Alex was able to press his emergency button from Smithers before all his gadgets were confiscated, MI6 never came. 

He thought about the man in the business suit that had his goonies knock him out, tie him up, and leave him in the the closet. 

Typically, the evil madmen he dealt with weren’t so quick to ditch him but in made sense knowing they wanted him caught in the explosion. He very nearly died in this one. _If Yassen hadn’t—_

He replayed his interactions with Yassen and mentally cringed. If Yassen hadn’t gotten him out, Jack would only have a small box of his ashes to commemorate him with at his funeral. 

While Yassen was clearly not a patient person in handling teenagers, Alex had no reason to egg him on after he pulling him from the explosion, regardless of his actions against his uncle. He felt really guilty for his actions earlier. 

Making up his mind, he opened the door, grabbed his dishware, and left it in the kitchen. 

Yassen was occupying an armchair in what constituted the living space of the small cabin, looking over some papers, and dutifully ignoring Alex. 

Alex also noticed the broken glass had been cleaned from the floor. 

His guilty conscience didn’t help the words come easier so he decided to wash the dishes while he organized what to say. 

Setting the bowl and spoon to dry, he made his way over to Yassen and stood directly in front of him for minutes. All the while, Yassen continued to ignore his presence until he spoke, settling on something simple and direct. “I’m sorry for yelling and breaking things.”

If Alex was upset at Yassen not being surprised at his ingenious escape, he was ill-prepared for the closest thing to surprise registering on Yassen’s face after listening to his apology. 

“Accepted,” he said with a nod. 

Alex couldn’t help the petulant internal voice that told him Yassen should be apologizing too for nearly strangling him but he brushed it aside. He was content with just having Yassen’s acquaintanceship; it was a vast improvement to his temper and he’ll take what he could get. 

After all, he was in Yassen’s territory. Literally and figuratively. Surely they must be residing in a safe house of sorts and Alex had no MI6 backing him up right now, if they even knew he was still alive at all. Yassen could throw him out in the snow if he became too troublesome. 

He was brought out his musings by Yassen’s remark. “I keep forgetting how young you are.” 

After another moment of silence, Alex considered that he imagined the last comment. It was spoken softly in an almost guilty tone that it seemed unrealistic coming from the cool, aloof assassin. 

Likely tired of Alex standing in front of him reticently, Yassen suggested, “There are books in various languages. Perhaps there are some in English.” He motioned to the bookshelves as in invitation.

Nodding mutely, Alex grabbed the first thing that looked reasonably readable—a French translation of Fahrenheit 451–because it was the only cover he recognized and he knew enough French to enjoy the main pieces of the plot. If only Alex’s literacy teacher could see him now—a thought that sent a pang through his chest. 

“How long ago was the explosion?” He inquired softly. 

“Almost three days ago; it is nearing midnight.”

He cringed.  _ Term had started back up again already...without him _ , he thought bitterly. 

Folding himself up in the armchair with his feet tucked into one arm of it, he read his book and tried to forget all his was missing back in Chelsea. 

Feeling eyes on him after he settled in, Yassen had picked his head up from his paperwork observing him with mild amusement before returning to his own reading. 

Hours passed in silence with their respective reading. At some point, Alex fell fitfully asleep and woke to the feeling of being lifted from the armchair. 

He kept his breathing steady and his body limp as Yassen carried him into the bedroom and settled him under the covers. 

Alex almost thought he got away with his spying until Yassen said, “Goodnight, Alex,” in a tone that called BS on his ‘asleep’ act. 

This time, Alex wasn’t even mad. Instead, he curled up around the pillow and fell contently back to sleep. 

_ Maybe bunking with Yassen for a little while wasn’t that bad after all.  _


	3. The Coldest Night

Alex woke to the sunshine reflected off a fresh snowfall outside.

Stretching languidly, he got out of bed and padded down the hallway towards the smell of frying eggs.

He settled at the table and noticed that the kitchen and living space didn’t seem to have the same heating units as the bedroom. Considering the fireplace in the living room, that was likely why.

But Alex spotted a robe discarded over an armchair in the living room and commandeered it, figuring Yassen wouldn’t mind.

Yassen gave him a curious look when he noticed Alex wrapped in the robe a few sizes too big for his form but didn’t object.

With the initial tension dissipated, Alex thought a rephrasing of his previous question might offer a more favorable conversation. “What was my father like?”

“Stubborn,” he answered immediately. “Not unlike yourself,” he further goaded.

But this time Alex didn’t rise to the bait and patiently waited for him to continue. When Yassen offered up nothing further, Alex filled the silence a bit.

“Ian didn’t like talking about him. Now it makes a bit more sense why.” Alex seemed almost sad. Kids often grew up proud of their father for being heroes. Alex didn’t seem to be so lucky.

“Your father believed wholly in the ends justifying the means,” he explained cryptically.

“Did you hear of the contagious nerve agent that was released throughout the United Kingdom localizing from British Parliament?”

Alex was confused by the question and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Exactly. Your father eliminated the leader of the operation and ignored any additional civilian cost in order to prevent the extermination of a much larger group of people.

“MI6 used him to infiltrate Scorpia and they killed him and your mother for it.

“He assassinated a long list of individuals to even get the opportunity to get close to such an operation. He was the best at what he did.”

Alex’s brain was whirling with the new information, but one thing didn’t add up.

A bit snarkier than intended, Alex asked, “If you think he is so great, why is he dead and you’re still alive?”

Yassen didn’t seem insulted by the question. Rather, he seemed content that Alex was finally asking the right kind of questions.

“He infiltrated the world’s most prominent organization for terrorism and still managed to be survived by his son. The end justified the means; he was fully aware of the consequences of his actions.

“If it is any consolation, I do not believe it was his intent to let your mother die too.”

Alex nodded but didn’t know what to say.

Yassen served him an omelet as he carried over his plate with his and they contently ate in silence.

After the meal, Yassen set to cleaning the plates in the sink as Alex got to his feet. Pushing off the table and putting pressure on one of the more swollen cuts on his hands, he flinched—an action not to go unnoticed by Yassen, who caught him looking over his cut up palms.

Setting the dishes back in the sink, he pulled out two chairs from the table with the command to “sit” in his no-nonsense tone.

Returning with a first aid kit, he sat across from Alex utilizing the tweezers first, sterilizing both Alex’s hands and the tweezers, he spotted and pulled out two shards of glass Alex had missed.

Liberally applying antibiotic cream, he finished the job by wrapping gauze over the worst areas.

Alex was almost embarrassed being reminded of the final memento of their fight and tucked his bandaged hands into the sleeves of the robe when he was finished.

“The temperature will drop tonight. I will be outside chopping wood for the fireplace. There is another coat and you can wear the snow pants if you want some fresh air.”

“Okay.” Outside. Yes, Alex certainly wasn’t being held captive or at least not in the traditional sense.

A half hour later, Alex was fitted up in an oversized snow jacket, pants, and boots with hands covered in gloves and a Sherpa hat covering his head.

He didn’t think Jack could ever manage to get him in so much gear—though winter in London was considerably kinder than the weather here.

To get his bearings, he took a stroll around the cabin while listening to the steady rhythm of the splintering of wood. After stretching his legs, he found a mound of snow by the house—likely bigger because of the wind blowing up against the house—and fell back into it, spread eagle, finally feeling a bit more like his old self. Another section of untouched snow beckoned and he fell back to it, creating a warped snow angel-esque imprint.

Content, he laid back and watched the clouds roll across the sky as Yassen picked back up with chopping wood.

“Alex,” Yassen called. Alex stirred from his light doze to hear the front door shut. He sat up and realized he was alone. Yassen went inside likely to clean off and Alex had his first true seconds of freedom. He took note of his surroundings but nothing could be seen for miles.

“Need a hand?” Yassen was a step outside the door, observing him.

“Oh, sorry.” Hands blissfully numbed from pain by the snow, he got to his feet and made his way inside. Yassen helped him brushed off any snow collected in the crevices of his waterproof gear.

This time a stew was simmering in a pot on the stove and a large pile of wood was made available inside the door. The fireplace was already roaring as well.

If he hadn’t been kidnapped from his last mission by his uncle’s murderer, it would almost seem like a quaint family bonding environment. Again, Alex could never be so lucky...and frankly, any family he was aware of was already dead.

“Go clean off. I set fresh clothes in the bathroom.”

Alex nodded and left to shower.

The sun went away only a handful of hours after lunch and Alex sat in front of the first, sitting in his armchair, reading a book.

Yassen had gone in the back room to take a phone call.

Alex used the restroom and noticed Yassen’s stern voice with the man he was addressing on the phone.

“He is of no consequence. He will be dealt with and is no issue to the operation. They simply have not been responsive regarding his collection.”

Alex’s eyes widened, absorbing this new information.

“He will be disposed of tomorrow.”

The conversation continued but Alex had heard enough. Walking as casually as he could, he made his way back to the living room and dressed quietly. The gear was still damp from his earlier excursion but it would give him a better chance than nothing.

Snow shoes—mostly decorative, but still function, he hoped—were removed off of the wall and strapped to his feet.

Dusk had fallen and snow was coming down. As quietly as he could manage, he escaped the front door. Though as Alex was two-thirds over the expanse towards the woods, he realized the door had not been shut completely and the wind opened and shut it with a loud bang.

Crap, he thought. He picked up the pace and made it to the tree line before he heard the door open again. “Alex!” Yassen sounded furious.

Though Alex still figured he’d chance it in the cold instead of wake up tomorrow and follow in his uncle’s footsteps.

The woods were both easier and harder to traverse. The snow was nowhere near as deep but the terrain was uneven and disguised by the snow that had settled between the trees; his calves and thighs strained with the effort to keep him upright and progressing forward. The wind was particularly brutal and the temperature was cold in the daytime, now it was almost unbearable.

Alex pulled up the hood and tried not to flinch as some snow seeped into the top and melted down his back.

He zipped up the jacket all the way before pulling the sleeves over his hands and shoving them in his pockets.

Fueled purely by adrenaline, he kept walking, praying that the snow covered his tracks enough to buy him more time.

Finally, at around the half hour mark, he could see the woods thinning out. So close.

He prayed he picked the correct direction. There had to civilization somewhere nearby. How else would Yassen get supplies?

Instead, all Alex saw just another empty plot of wide open land covered in snow going on for miles and any energy he had, fled.

The strain of trudging through deep snow with snow shoes ate at his confidence. He was going to die.

Remembering some History channel episode about surviving a blizzard, he dug a hole into the snow and used it to escape the winds barreling down on him, but it did little with the chill of the air. Sweat from the exertion seemed to sap heat from his skin as well and tears froze in his eyelashes and on his cheeks.

His teeth chattered uncontrollably as his whole form trembled, attempting to retain as much heat as he could muster.

He lost track of time and was blinded by light as he finally passed out.

After three hours of searching on snowmobile, he was all ready to head back until he spotted an unnatural divot in the snow at the end of the woods.

He sped over, dismounted, and cautiously approached. He certainly didn’t want to be chasing the kid through the woods in this weather.

Instead, his worst fear was realized when he found Alex unconscious, face stripped of any color, and buried in the snow.

Cutting off the snow shoes and leaving them behind, he picked Alex up and carried him to the snow mobile, settling him on his lap, held tightly to his chest as he drove back to the cabin.

He parked the snowmobile directly outside the door, hardly remembering to take the key from the ignition.

He pulled off any outerwear by the door before carrying Alex and setting him down on the floor near the fireplace. He pulled the blanket from the couch to cover him while he retrieved the blankets off the bed as well.

From under the blanket, he divested Alex of his dampened shirt, pants, and socks, rubbing any residual moisture dry with the blanket.

He didn’t stop there and paid particular attention to his extremities, rubbing the chill out of Alex’s hands and feet.

The worst seemed behind them when Alex body started shivering again.

He left only to run water for a bath.

Confirming what he expected with a thermometer, Alex’s core temperature was rising back up.

He carried a still-unconscious Alex into the bathroom, wrapped in a blanket while the water filled with some degree of lukewarm-to-hit water.

At two thirds full, he worked mechanically, turning off the water, setting rolled towels to brace Alex’s head, unwrapping the teen from the blanket...perhaps he should’ve removed Alex’s undergarment but left it to offer some modicum of privacy.

The last time he’d seen this before, it was done between soldiers after a particular challenging mission in the alps. Mirroring the movements of the medic with his comrade, he pressed on.

Without further hesitation, he pushed Alex into the water and quickly kept the jerking movements of his hands and feet to a minimum.

Alex’s eyes were comically wide as he struggled against Yassen’s hold.

“Please, don’t kill me,” Alex whispered, weakly struggling in the bath.

Yassen thought curiously about that. Surely after saving the kid not once but now twice had to mean something. He always knew teenagers were difficult and while he, himself, was mostly quiet, he and John did have their moments of disagreement.

Alex quieted down and settled into the tub, with eyes cloudy, unfocused staring at a random spot on the wall.

Yassen tested his temperature again was content with the results. Returning with the robe, two sets of socks, and a pile of towels, he lifted Alex from the tub and had him seated on the lid of the toilet seat.

Thinking back again to his time with John, he couldn’t recall ever being nearly this difficult.

Mostly dried off, Yassen slipped Alex’s arms into the sleeves of the robe and wrapped it snugly around his lean figure.

Alex wasn’t particularly helpful but didn’t resist the treatment.

Alex looked almost comical when he returned to the bed stripped of any and all undergarments, wrapped securely in the oversized robe, with wool socks covering his hands and feet.

Yassen would’ve been amused if not for how close to losing Alex altogether.

Alex had tried to escape on one of the coldest nights of the season and without nearly enough gear to withstand the elements.

Though he reasoned he’d likely release him in the morning, he cuffed both of Alex’s hand together and chained him to the headboard.

It was nearing 3AM and he was tired.

After changing into fresh clothes himself, he settled in the chair in the corner of the bedroom to nap.


	4. Freedom

Alex woke confused and disoriented.

He could never comfortably sleep flat on his back, but it seemed his body greatly protested any and all movement. His hands being cuffed together further complicated matters.

Considering the familiar room, Yassen must’ve eventually found him. Scattered memories of a bath and been dried off by him flitted through his mind as well.

If Yassen was going to kill him, then he was spending an unusual amount of effort to do so. Perhaps it had something to do with his father or perhaps his warped sense of honor and decency.

Moments later, he was given the opportunity to ask Yassen himself.

“Drink.”

A bowl of heated broth was brought to him with a straw set at his mouth. Alex obeyed.

“Have you satisfied your urge to escape? Civilization would not be found for another 15 kilometers in the direction you traveled and not for another 20-100 kilometers in the other directions.”

Alex nodded quietly, though couldn’t help but consider the possibility of escape had the conditions been better.

“With your disappearance, MI6 returned your housekeeper to the States; however, on paper, MI6 has custody of you anyway. You will be left at a predetermined location for a MI6 agent to collect.”

Disposed, Alex thought ruefully.

“Considering your condition, the drop is delayed until tomorrow but I have matters to attend to today.”

“When we you be back?” Alex said before his brain caught up with itself. He sounded like mopey teenager wanting to spend time with his dad and less like a spy wanting to have a proper gauge of when his ‘captor’ of sorts will return to plan accordingly. Though, considering the state of his overtaxed muscles from yesterday, he wouldn’t be moving too far too fast anyway.

“I will return.”

Okay, unhelpful.

Alex watched him leave and heard the sound of an engine firing, then silence.

Alex tested the strength of the cuffs and noted the hole in the mattress was patched too...unless he wanted to start breaking thumbs, he was stuck. The socks warming his hands and wrists seem to do little in easing the chafing of his wrists.

It was going to be a long, boring day.

Alex woke to the sound of the front door closing and pulled against the cuffs, wincing as they containing rubbing against where the skin had already been rubbed raw.

Yassen seemed surprised Alex stayed in the cuffs but deftly released him from his confines.

Alex slowly and stiffly got to his feet, gripping the headboard for balance, stretching out his strained muscles; Yassen almost felt a touch of remorse for leaving him in the cuffs for the day. That is, until he remembered the 3-hour manhunt through frigid conditions when Alex ran away.

“There is food on the stove,” he said informatively.

Alex was rubbing his raw wrists with his gauzed hands. “Thanks.” He spoke softy, demurely, as he then began to peel away the gauze and scratch at the scabs.

Yassen left and returned with the first aid kit once again. This time setting it on the bed to spread more antibacterial ointment on Alex’s hands and wrists.

He then grabbed an unmarked bag from the floor to give to Alex before he left, taking the kit with him and closing the door.

The bag had a change of clothes, undergarments, and sneakers with a sweatshirt and windbreaker jacket.

Considering Alex was still dressed only in the robe, he eagerly changed before relieving himself in the bathroom and heading out into the living area to grab food.

Stiffly moving around—he felt like he would after a full body workout at the gym in school—he served himself more some stew into a bowl and sat at the kitchen table to eat.

His thoughts wandered. Yes, he wasn’t in great shape but many of his injuries were his own doing: the head injury was from the guard he egged on while tied up, the broken glass was from something he broke in anger, the hypothermia from trudging into the cold without a real plan...the handcuffs? Well, he reasoned they made sense. After all, he had nearly gotten himself killed trying to escape. He didn’t give much reason for Yassen to trust him to not try again.

He considered a different world in which he had met Yassen as a friend of his dad’s and not his uncle’s killer...though his dad didn’t seem to be too much of a good person himself.

His dad had saved a lot of people but at what cost? No, Alex didn’t think he could do that too. Kill people almost indiscriminately for years to earn the trust of a terrorist organization just for the chance to take down a larger operation..? No.

Alex had likely maimed, if not played a critical part in the death of several people, but it had always been in self defense. To kill someone in cold blood?

Alex looked over to Yassen seated in his usual armchair in the living room as he reviewed a file of papers.

No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his forehead, massaging gently.

Making up his mind, he set the dirty dishes in the sink and returned to the bedroom.

Never minding he was still dressed, he wrapped the comforter around him as the sat curled up facing the window.

He thought of a different world.

One where his father wasn’t a seemingly cold-blooded killer.

Where he was raised with both parents and brought on family vacations for the fun of it and not the training experience.

It wasn’t fair...and the part he hated the most was that he didn’t have anyone. If Yassen’s intel was correct Jack was sent home and he belonged to MI6.

He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t think he could stay here either. He already caused Yassen enough trouble.

Alex didn’t realize he was crying until a tear landed on his jeans. He felt truly alone.


	5. The Great Escape

The door creaked open and he quickly wiped the tears from his face before turning around on the bed.

“We will need to travel tonight after dinner to be at the meeting location in time for tomorrow.”

Alex nodded silently and looked downcast, hoping to keep further tears at bay.

Yassen hesitated, almost as if he had something further to say, before taking his leave and returning to the living room.

Alex knew asking to stay was too much but maybe Yassen could at least offer some advice. He was the one person that didn’t treat him like some petulant kid.

His sock clad feet padded down the hallway as he made the trip with the large blanket still wrapped around him and he settled what had so often been ‘his’ armchair.

He thought of a number of ways to ease into the conversation but when he opened his mouth to speak, he blurted, “I don’t want to go back.”

Yassen’s eyes snapped to his and he made some sound akin to a scoff. “You seemed eager last night.”

Fair point, Alex though.

“I though you were going to dispose of me today.” He added extra emphasis to highlight how dark it would be to think of a person as disposable.

“You should learn not to eavesdrop. One day it will get you killed.”

“It has saved my life so far,” he retorted impertinently.

“I doubt my dragging your unconscious body from a snow bank in the dead of night as a result of your eavesdropping counts.”

Yassen had him there. “That was different,” though even he knew the argument was a losing one. “I’m sorry,” he resigned.

“If Jack has already been deported, then I don’t have anyone left. They’ve been using her to blackmail me. I don’t want to go back. How do you do it? Have a safe house, stay under their radar?”

“With training,” Yassen said deliberately slow. “You are far too young and inexperienced to manage without assistance.”

“I might be able to fake my own death, right? Not come back from one of my missions. I nearly died from Point Planc anyway and could’ve easily been caught up in the explosion at the lab.”

“They will still search for you until they can positively identify your body or remains.”

Alex was growing frustrated.

“What do you suggest then?” he spat out, teenage hormones fueling his sauciness. “I can’t stay here—you hate me—my uncle is dead, and my godfather murdered my parents, I have no one—”

“I do not hate you,” Yassen said softly.

Alex was caught completely off guard as all the turbulent emotions wracking his brain switched off like a valve.

“But I still couldn’t stay here,” he said softly, sadly, head down and hands fidgeting.

“No, you could not,” Yassen agreed.

“MI6 is aware you are in my possession and expects you to be back in their care tomorrow morning. If you happened to disappear while in their care, it is no longer my concern.”

Alex looked up, trying to work out the incentivized meaning and staunching any hopefulness until he could determine how serious of an offer that was.

“...What did you have in mind?”

Yassen watched him carefully. “MI6 has selected Albert Bridge as the exchange point.”

“My father was involved with something there before, right?”

“Yes. When your father was found out by Scorpia as a double agent, MI6 arranged for an exchange at Albert Bridge, except an MI6 sniper shot him and with theatrics, his death was faked.”

Before Alex could ask, Yassen continued, “To attempt the same would be too obvious.”

“So what do we do?”

“We do nothing. You will be returned to the care of MI6 tomorrow. There is a time and place for everything,” he said with a note of finality.

“Nothing? But you said—“

“I know what I said,” Yassen said in a measured tone with an air of danger; his patience was expiring.

Alex was still shocked over the turn of events, then frustrated.

“They’re just going to use me again...maybe I’ll luck out and get blown up at the next one.”

“Perhaps.” Yassen sounded as though that would be the logical option.

Alex’s frustration peaked at the mercurial comment. “I can’t believe I...ugh! Even now, you’re just playing with me. If you want to drop me off, let’s just get on with it.”

“The flight does not depart until 9PM. If you wish to sulk, do so in the bedroom.”

Alex gave Yassen one more pointed look then did exactly that. Wrapped in the comforter, he looked too much like a little kid having a temper tantrum for the seriousness of the conversation but it didn’t deter him from slamming the door.

He skipped dinner and instead only walked out of the door when it was time to leave.

“Behave,” Yassen admonished before blindfolding Alex and binding his arms.

He was then wrapped in a hat and coat and placed on the seat of the snow mobile as Yassen got on behind him.

Starting to feel more like his old self, Alex commented lightly, “I suppose this is a bad time to mention I get motion sickness.”

A small grumble barely audible over the engine of the vehicle revving was the only response he got to his cheek.

A fifteen minute trip on the snowmobile ended with the change to SUV where Alex was bundled into the back seat.

Only when they reached the airport in St Petersburg did Yassen untie his arms and remove the blindfold.

Somewhere along the way, Yassen put in some colored contacts to resemble Alex more closely and it worked. No one questioned them traveling together.

Alex dozed during nearly 7 hour flight and, after grabbing food in London from a street vendor, they arrived a half hour early to the drop zone.

With all the cars and pedestrians around, no one suspected what was about to take place.

Five minutes ‘til, a black van pulled up and two agents unloaded a man in his mid-thirties, Alex would guess. Though no guns could be seen, the man’s stiff posture signaled the person leading him out was likely pressing a gun to his spine.

Alex received no such treatment. Instead, Yassen had Alex keep close to him and rested his hands on Alex’s shoulders, almost protectively. Aside from the freshly-wrapped gauze on his hands and slightly more cropped haircut, Alex was in decent condition and seemed to pass the silent inspection of the MI6 agent.

The agent nodded and he heard Yassen give the go ahead. Everything was incredibly intense as both he and the man reached the middle of the two sides.

Then, Alex’s eyes flashed to a glint of metal in the window of a car passing by and a popping sound was heard.

Blood splattered over his face and something slammed into his left shoulder as a heavy weight knocked him to the ground. The man was dead and laying on top of him, but he turned his head to see that Yassen was gone. He left.

The MI6 agent rushed over pushing aside the dead body and getting Alex to lie on the pavement so he could put pressure on the wound until paramedics arrived. The ambulance arrived within the next five minutes and Alex could nothing but look longingly to where Yassen had been.

Medics, a man and a woman, scrambled around him but he hardly cared.

The pain in his shoulder from the gunshot paled in comparison to the pain he felt in his chest; the betrayal of being left behind.

Neither MI6 agent—both too preoccupied with handling the dead body of the former hostage—rode with him to the hospital. They didn’t see one of the EMTs inject Alex with a tranquilizer or realize that that Alex’s gurney never made it to the hospital.

On the way, the ambulance took a detour so the EMTs had time and privacy to load the gurney into a van before returning the ambulance to the hospital lot.

“We have the target and he’s stable,” the man reported into the comms unit.

Alex woke later in an unfamiliar environment but immediately recognized the figure seated in the corner of the room and knew they had succeeded. He was free. For now.


	6. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. What have I done?   
> This doesn’t mean AWOL won’t be continued but for my personal sanity these will be done independently.   
> Considering the original chapters of TGE were 1-2k words, I hope to keep this trend to make updates go faster. - AV

Sitting up in the bed, he felt refreshed, energized even. “So where are we?” Alex said perkily. 

“Away,” Yassen said vaguely with a look that discouraged further questions on the matter. 

Alex hopped to his feet, looking around and quickly noticed his room had no windows, something done by design. It seemed even though the assassin help him escape from MI6, he still didn’t trust him yet; understandable considering all the trouble he caused him this far. 

Feeling an itch in his left shoulder, he reached into his shirt sleeve to scratch and hit the padding of wrapped gauze instead. Looking over to Yassen confused, the man spoke evenly, “it will heal and you will be weened of the morphine today. It would be best to be back in bed when it wears off.” 

Alex’s eyes went comically wide in horror and he ran to the nearest reflective surface, a small vanity mirror in the corner of the windowless bedroom, pulled down on the collar of his shirt and pulling off part of the adhesive tape. 

“You shot me?” Alex accused in horror. 

“The individual responsible for the removal of the MI6’s hostage was further tasked with injuring you enough to warrant medical intervention. It was intended as a graze. They missed and received consequences for their error.” He spoke ominously but Alex didn’t note it right away.

“I could’ve died,” Alex said hollowly. 

“You did not. You will heal with time,” Yassen said brusquely. From his cold manner, Alex felt some warmth knowing Yassen in his weird way seemed to care. His thoughts drifted to contemplating the consequences a person working for Yassen would receive for such a mistake and—recalling with startling clarity how he addressed the worker who dropped the box in the Stormbreaker operation—quickly diverted his attention to something else. 

To distract himself, he noted there was a small bathroom in the corner and escaped into there, closing the door behind him. After relieving himself, Alex pulled up his shirt and used the mirror to check himself over for further wounds.He found a few patches of scabs on his arms and legs, and one large speckled patch on his side from falling on the pavement but otherwise seemed to be in one piece. A sore spot on his head matching the bruises on his side could also be felt through his hairline. Satisfied, he finished by splashing water on his face. He could hardly believe it. He was alive and more importantly, he was free.

Tom’s face came into his mind’s eye and his heart constricted. Jack had been deported but now he’d never see his friend again. Never go to school again. Never go  _ home _ again. 

Alex choked up thinking about it. 

_What had he done?_ he anguished over the memories of everything he sacrificed to escape MI6. 

_ And now he saddled himself with a murderer _ , he thought with self loathing. 

Alex backed up until the cool tile soothed his flushed skin through the back of his thin tshirt. Shortly after, he found himself seated, tucked against the corner of the bathroom with tears streaming down his face. He’d never thought freedom would make him feel so trapped. 

Further reflection was interrupted by the bathroom door opening. 

Deftly wiping the tears from his face and sniffling, Alex remarked cheekily, “You should really knock before entering a bathroom.”

“Your auditory senses appear to be as congested as your olfactory senses.”

Alex brain was slow to translate the jargon, but his science lessons from school supplied the necessary information and he sniffled through a laugh. “Okay, so I may have spaced out for a bit,” he admitted, wiping his nose with his hand. 

Yassen regarded him for a moment before asking politely, “Do you wish to return?”

He coughed as a fresh wave of tears came. Collecting himself, he explained, “No. I have nothing to return to anyway. Jack is gone and I’m too young to live by myself. Without a guardian, they’d ship me off to some orphanage or boarding school and collect me when they need me to work for them.” Then, when he remembered who he was talking to, he stopped his tirade. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’ll just be out in a moment.”

But Yassen did not walk away. He only opened the door fully, took a step back, and waited. Getting over the initial irritation of his lack of privacy, Alex almost felt a little better with the silent support and he pulled himself together. 

Then he realized his muscles had stiffened up and pressure sent pain through his arm and chest. His shoulder was now far too weak and painful to hold his weight. It seems sometime during his self-pity party, the morphine wore off. 

He was stuck. He tried rolling up to his knees with his one good arm bracing the towel on the rack but he was too unsteady and awkward to manage it. Pain and soreness radiated from the side that impacted the pavement when that guy fell on him and he groaned at the effort to move. 

After trying a few more ways to shift around, he huffed. He was no closer to getting up than before and he felt boneless and burnt out. 

He looked to Yassen who stood merely observing his struggles emotionlessly. 

He felt so helpless. He glanced back at Yassen silently pleading for his assistance. Alex didn’t seem to do _anything_ correctly nowadays. He expected a derogatory remark, a Yassen-equivalent of an ‘I-told-you-so’, or even a ‘no’. 

Instead, Yassen wordlessly kneeled down on the tiled floor, bracing his hands at Alex’s back and thighs, and lifted him easily, carrying him back into the bedroom. 

If Alex thought he was embarrassed before, he was blushing profusely now. He purposely ignored his unusually close proximity to the man who befriended his father and murdered his uncle. Yassen though said nothing, merely shifted his weight to pull back the comforter and settled him on the bed, pulling the comforter over his legs and within Alex’s reach. 

“Thanks,” he offered weakly.

Alex turned over and buried his face into the soft comforter, hoping to scrub the last 20 minutes from his memory. His shoulder ached fiercely but he diligently ignored it. 

Hearing the bedroom door open and shut, he cursed himself for being so weak. Yassen arranged the ambulance and EMT ruse to get him away from MI6, he had his wounds treated properly, and he secured a safe house to ensure he had a place to rest and heal. All of this was done at his original request to escape MI6 and all he did was cry about it. Perhaps it was unfair he got shot in the process but it was more desirable than his plans to get caught in an explosion or die in a firefight on his next mission. Resolving himself, he refused to linger too much longer on the life he had. Would he have wanted to take some items with him from home? Yes. But it seems that just wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d manage. 

Laying back, he drifted off to sleep with a new purpose: he’d train and learn from Yassen...and hopefully sometime soon he wouldn’t need him to look after him anymore. He’d make sure that he’d soon be able to manageon his own. 


	7. Friend or Foe

Waking up later, he found a glass of water and some pills on a bedside table which he gratefully took but his stomach rumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything. His shoulder was throbbing and getting up would be an awkward endeavor. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he cradled his bad arm and used his one good arm as leverage, rolling up onto his feet. Too fast, he thought as he almost toppled back over. 

He made his way to the door and tried the handle, surprised to find the door opened with ease. He was in a modern apartment, sparsely decorated with a table and chairs, a single couch and coffee table, and a open concept kitchen and island layout.

Though, Alex noticed quickly that Yassen was no where to be seen. He did not feel comfortable enough to go through the man’s refrigerator himself but noticed a fruit bowl sitting out. Grabbing a banana, he quickly ate it and tossed the peel in the trash. 

“Hey good to see you up,” a woman’s voice called over from another open door in the hallway. He recognized her as the woman EMT from Albert Bridge. Strolling over, her graceful movement made it obvious she had received similar training to Yassen; Alex remained wary. 

“I’m Lyra. Cossack had to step out for a bit.” Alex nodded, but kept his distance. She looked friendly enough but knew well that if she worked with Yassen, she was likely an assassin too. While Yassen may offer him some protection, he wasn’t here at the moment. 

She did stop some distance away and regarded him carefully before leaving. “I’ve got just the thing for you,” she said chipperly. Returned a moment later, she produced a strip of beige fabric. 

“That shoulder of yours is going to sting for a while. How about we immobilize it while you’re up and about?” She sounded like a school teacher the way she phrased her proposition. Encouraging and yet demanding in a way that Alex didn’t feel like he could say no. Not wanting to disagree, he nodded. 

She tied off the fabric and looped it around him, polite enough not to touch him more than necessary but the action itself required her to be uncomfortably close to him. 

“See? easy. You’ll be back with your mom and dad in no time.” 

Alex didn’t correct her but was surprised at the comment. Yassen clearly lied to her or purposefully left out key details. It certainly wasn’t his place to offer any more information than necessary.

“So, sleepy head,” she brushed a hand over his cheek in a creepily loving manner, “what’re you doing up and about so soon?” Alex stayed quiet. 

“Oh leave the poor kid alone.” Alex froze at the new voice. It was the male EMT from Albert Bridge. 

The man strolled in and paused, staring at Alex far too closely. “My god,” he exclaimed. “You  _are_ Hunter’s kid.” Alex kept his mouth shut and his expression neutral. But instead of deterring the man, it spurred him on. “I don’t believe it. Cossack never said. Hunter’s brother is going to be mad—”

“He’s dead,” Alex interjected, though immediately he regretted it. Less information was better, he reminded himself. He didn’t want to give too much away and certainly didn’t trust either of them. He was rather uncomfortable with how familiar the likely-assassin was regarding his father.

Sobering up, the man had the decency to offer some sympathy, “Ah, that’s a shame, kid but it was only a matter of time.”

Alex had his fill of dealing with either of them that he grabbed an orange and an apple from the fruit basket and silently returned to his room, shutting the door behind him. On second thought, he left the door cracked open in case the two of them could offer some useful information. 

“Viper, are you sure?” Lyra asked conspiratorially.

“Positive, but I wonder what Cossack will do with him. If I remember right, Hunter only had the one sibling.”

“That poor kid. Do you think Cossack would...you know...?”

“Cossack take on a kid? That’d be a sight.” Viper laughed. “Though if that kid is anything like his father, under Cossack’s tutelage he’d be downright lethal. Do you think he’s still awake? He might know.”

Lyra sounded amused. “You should take your own advice, lover boy, and leave the kid alone.”

He heard footsteps and a door shut before he heard a heavier set of footsteps approach his door. Quickly Alex went and laid down on his bed feigning sleep. Clearly Viper wasn’t as skilled as Yassen at recognizing a fake sleep act. 

His door creaked open for a moment before the footsteps receded and a door down the hall clicked shut. 

Alex grew anxious considering his predicament. He had no idea where Yassen was or when he’d be back, he had no idea where  he was, but he knew one thing for certain: he could not trust either Viper or Lyra. 

He needed fresh air. _Craved it_. At the very least he’d be able to sort out one of his concerns. 

Alex tried to recall if he saw any windows leading outside. If he was going to be stuck here, he should at least know where ‘here’ was. 

The apartment was quiet and both assassins were in their rooms. He was dressed in a light tshirt and sweatpants right now wearing only socks on his feet. Peeking out of his room, there were no shoes in sight. But he wasn’t going far, just getting some fresh air and satisfying his curiosity.

Making up his mind, he slipped out of his door carrying a half-eaten apple and smeared the juices liberally along the window tracks. Thankfully, someone flushed a toilet in the apartment and he took the opportunity, pulling the door open and closed quickly. Neither agent was nonethewiser. He thanked his blesséd luck that there was a fire escape outside the window.

From what he observed, he was in a city—that part was obvious—and the apartment was only two stories up. As his arm was still in the sling, he resorted to one-handedly climbing down the fire escape which was slow-moving but doable. Truly, he couldn’t believe his luck; he hardly expected to make it even this far. 

Setting his feet on the pavement felt freeing, albeit a tab weird in socks but he soon ignored the sensation, lowering the waistline of his already-oversized sweatpants to cover his socked feet from public view. 

He couldn’t help but take a moment to breathe in the fresh air. Freedom last night had felt stifling but this morning, it finally lived up to the hype. 

He looked a little unusual without a coat in the chilly morning weather but aside from a few disparaging looks from a middle aged woman, he was hardly looked at twice. Then again, it may also have been the sling that drew a bit more attention. 

He didn’t feel good about it but he ‘borrowed’ a standard-looking black jacket forgotten on a chair of a bistro’s outdoor seating arrangement and slipped it on. 

Reviewing the Dutch street signs, he reasoned he was somewhere in the Netherlands and, getting his hands on a newspaper, saw he was in its capital, Amsterdam. 

Satisfied with his excursion, he looped back to begin his trip back. That is, until a figure approached him swiftly from behind and he felt a pinch in his neck. 

He tried to defend himself but his limbs reacted lethargically and he fell sideways into a set of arms that lifted him bodily off the ground. His eyesight went blurry and the last thing he registered was looking up at a man’s face. 


	8. Easy Come, Easy Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new day...a new update!

Waking up this time was a much different experience. No longer was his arm in a sling. Instead both his arms and legs were bound to a recognizable dining room chair and his jacket was gone. His shoulder ached fiercely in his seated position. 

“Rise and shine,” the guy teased. “Boy, if I had any doubt before, I’m sure now. You’ve got the Rider gene alright. Cossack would have our heads if we lost you.”

Alex’s vision was still a little fuzzy along the edges. “I was headed right back anyway. This is a little excessive,” he said, albeit a bit whiny, pulling on the ropes. 

“No, no, no. You’re staying right we’re you are.” Viper was venomously giddy. “You’re lucky I found you first. Lyra loves issuing consequences to people who misbehave.”

“Is it really worse than talking them to death?” Alex shot back. 

His eyes darkened. “She’s very good at getting little canaries to sing and isn’t particular to their age. I imagine she’d enjoy breaking you. But don’t worry. I have my own ways to enjoy your company. I know how to have my  _ fun _ with you too.”

Goosebumps erupted on the skin of his arms at the insinuation, but he wouldn’t be helpless to the threat.“And when Yassen finds out, he would enjoy having his  _ fun _ with you too,” Alex shot back, doing his best impression of Viper’s tone. 

“Ooh aren’t you fresh little boy. I just love it when they fight back.” Viper dragged a finger up his thigh and continued up his chest until he settled a hand on his breast bone, while he leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Don’t you worry yourself about Cossack. My fun doesn’t leave scars. Well, not physical ones anyway. Then it’ll only be your word against mine and you’ve already proven to be untrustworthy.”

For the first time, Alex was terrified. Viper pulled up his shirt baring his abdomen and pressed into a trigger point with startling accuracy. 

The moment was interrupted at the sound of the unlocking of the apartment door and Viper deftly shoved the beige fabric from his makeshift sling in his mouth as a gag. However, it wasn’t Lyra that walked through the door. 

Yassen regarded them carefully, carrying in three filled bags of supplies. Viper had stepped back from Alex, but his shirt was still pulled up. 

Yassen didn’t seem particularly surprised Alex had been gagged and tied to a chair, rather he seemed to go about as normal, putting two out of three bags in the kitchen before carrying the third one out. 

“I trust he wasn’t too much trouble,” Yassen stated flatly ignoring Alex tugging at the ropes. 

Viper smirked. “We had a minor incident but nothing irreparable.”

Though this time, Yassen hadn’t been looking at either of them. His eyes narrowed to the window in the corner of the room. To a normal person, it looked almost exactly as it had before he left, but it seemed had Yassen noticed the latch was unhooked. 

“Minor?” Yassen said slowly, dangerously, fixing Viper with a glare before moving to the window and locking it. 

“Your pet Rider took a stroll around the block. I found him. I brought him back,” the man said simply with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“You failed to keep track of one teenager.” Yassen’s voice had gone cold. 

The man still seemed unbothered by Yassen’s ire. “I carried him back. No trouble—“

“In broad daylight.” Yassen enunciated. 

Viper’s eyes darkened. “He was given suitable incentive not to have a repeat incident.”

Yassen narrowed his gaze but said nothing further, choosing instead to take out a knife, cut Alex from his bindings, remove the gag, and push the bag into his lap. 

“Dress and wait in your room. I will collect you in a moment. Be ready to leave.” Alex unsteadily got to his feet—the effects of the sedative still hadn’t worn off. 

“That wasn’t the plan,” Viper protested. “You told me—“

Yassen ignored him. “I trust you and Lyra can handle cleanup.”

The man almost continued protesting but calmed and offered a terse, “Yes, sir.”

“ _ Alex _ .” 

Alex was having difficult time getting moving and was braced against the chair trying to get his legs to work. “Sorry.” After a quick stumble, he used the wall for balance and managed to get to his room to change. 

The new shirt was tricky to pull on but Yassen supplied a better sling for his shoulder, one that he could clip on himself. The bag also had trainers which he was incredibly grateful for, especially since the laces were elastic and not ties. Putting on the one arm of the zip-up, he settled the other over his bad shoulder but left it loose over the sling. 

Outside he heard Viper raise his voice. 

“And you’re going to what? Keep that traitor’s spawn? Scorpia would love to have him and Julia would  certainly enjoy his company. He’d be so easy to break.”

He couldn’t hear Yassen’s response but his skin crawled. He didn’t know who Julia was but perhaps it was for the best. 

He collected the old clothes, balling them together, when he heard the sound of an inhuman crack from the other side of the door. 

His blood went cold but he forced himself to keep moving, and keep his hand busy, quickly packing the old clothes in the plastic bag. 

No more than a minute later, there was a light rap on his door which Alex answered. 

Checking him over, Yassen stated flatly, “We are leaving.”

Leading him to the door, Yassen approached the open black duffel bag on the carpet. 

“Behave,” he ordered, handing him a baseball cap and taking a second to zip-up Alex’s jacket.

Alex glanced back and caught a glimpse of Viper’s feet and legs on the carpet as he followed Yassen out the door. 

Yassen lead him down the stairs and outside to a large SUV that required Alex to invoke some creative movement to get up into single handedly. Seated, the seatbelt was harder to manage; his hand was shaking. 

Yassen said nothing but removed the latch from his grasp, reached over and secured Alex’s seatbelt for him before securing his own. 

They pulled onto the road and an awkward silence settled between them. With nothing left to do, Alex settled back in his seat, sat on his shaking hand, and resolved to watching Yassen drive. 


	9. A Less Than Pleasant Journey, Part 1

The question was on the tip of his tongue and while he stayed quiet for the first 5 minutes, he couldn’t help himself. “Where are we going?” 

“Away.”

Alex rolled his eyes but settled back into silence. At least he hadn’t gone and asked ‘are we there yet?’. Then again, he supposed he hadn’t proven himself all that trustworthy yet by sneaking out of the apartment. 

Slouching in his seat, he took off the baseball cap and rested his head against the window, watching the city of Amsterdam pass by as they drove. 

Alex had nearly drifted off to sleep when Yassen spoke again. “I will be stopping for supplies within the hour. You will have medicine for your shoulders. Do you need ‘ _medicine_ _ ’ _ for anything else?” 

Alex took a moment to realize what was intoned by the remark. “No, no. He didn’t...you know. He just....” Alex huffed and shrank in his seat, face flushed thinking about the now-dead man that threatened him only two hours ago. 

Yassen nodded and kept his eyes on the road. 

***

The boot of the car was shut and Alex flinched snapping awake. Turning quickly, he banged his elbow on the armrest sending pain rippling from his shoulder. 

Yassen got back in the driver’s seat and in noticing Alex’s condition, produced a cold cut sandwich, a bottle of painkillers, and a water bottle. “Eat. Then take two,” he ordered. 

Alex took the two bottles but grumbled, “You could’ve woken me when you stopped.” 

Yassen set the sandwich in his lap, clarifying, “Eat first.”

Still reeling from the pain in his shoulder, eating was the furthest from his mind. In fact, whether it was due to the pain, the motion of the car, or the days events catching up to him, he felt nauseous. 

Yassen’s attention had already returned to driving as they pulled back out on the road. 

Eating a few polite bites of the sandwich, he took the pain meds with a few small sips of water but his stomach didn’t settle. He unzipped his jacket to try and ease the discomfort to no avail. 

“Yassen, are we stopping again sometime soon?”

Silence. Yassen didn’t even glance over. 

“Are we going to stop someplace tonight to sleep?”

Still, Yassen ignored him, not even acknowledging he spoke. 

Alex tried to ignore the feeling, but his stomach rolled uncomfortably. 

“Yassen?” he asked again politely. Yassen didn’t look at him for more than a passing glance but Alex pressed on. “Yassen, could you please pull over?”

“We will be stopping near the German border.”

He felt bile rise to his throat. “I need you to stop  _ now _ .” Alex was tired of playing docile and despite the curious glance in his direction, Yassen listened. 

As soon as the car stopped, he tripped out the door and fell into the grass retching everything, the fruit, the sandwich, and the painkillers. Yassen came to his side with a damp rag, a water bottle, and a plastic bag to help him get cleaned up. 

“What occurred this morning?” Alex heard Yassen ask evenly from behind him, approaching him carefully, almost as if he was calming a rabid animal. Alex laughed at his technique; maybe he had more experience with teenagers than those other assassins seemed to think. 

“I went out for a quick walk and some fresh air. I had the pleasure of knowing I was visiting Amsterdam as well which was nice. I was on my way back when Viper picked me up and—“

Yassen was directly behind him and abruptly pulled the collar of shirt down exposing his neck where the needle went in. “ _What. Happened_ ,” he demanded. 

Alex pulled out of his grasp, backing away. “He drugged me I think. I don’t remember the trip back. Then he threatened to...and started to...but you came back. Nothing really happened. It was only threats.”

Yassen’s countenance became cold, sinister. “That was not mentioned before. No pain medicine for now,” he concluded. 

“What?! I get shot and drugged off the street in the same week and I have to what? Grin and bare it?” Alex’s patience wore thin. 

“You will manage,” he stated, helping Alex to his feet, careful of his shoulder, and lead him back to the car to settle him back in the car seat. 

Toeing off his sneakers, he curled up in the seat and, after morosely watching the trees move by as they drove, he drifted back off to sleep in his boredom. 

***

He woke again when they approached the border and Yassen produced the necessary paperwork. Amazingly, the guards hardly looked at him twice.

It was dark out but perhaps this was by design. Still, his back hurt from being curled up on the seat all day. 

“In the next hour, we will be stopping at a motel for a few hours. Remain in the room. Do not talk to anyone or make any noise.”

“Why would I want to talk to anyone when we’re having such riveting conversations now?” Alex mumbled, settling his head back along the window to ignore the look Yassen was likely sending his way. 

“What was the last unit of history you remember from school?”

Alex was surprised by the comment but answered more politely, “We were just starting learning about the Allied and the Axis powers when...well when I was recruited, I guess.” 

Yassen nodded and continued asking him questions on his level of education, testing his knowledge on other aspects of history while diligently explaining other aspects of history, particularly in Russian, Syrian, Iraqi, and Iranian history that lead to relevant matters in the news today. 

Alex hung onto his every word, part in amazement because he had never listened to Yassen talk for so long, part in wonder because the man was incredibly knowledgeable in historical events. 

Too soon Yassen resumed his more typical quiet demeanor and pulled off the road to the motel. Gathering their bags, Yassen checked them in at the front desk, collected the keys, and lead them to the room nearest the back corner. 

“Do not leave, open the door, or speak to anyone.” Yassen handed him a bag of supplies including a toothbrush, toothpaste, and 3-in-1 body wash. “I will be back before dawn.”

And just like that, Alex was alone. Sitting on the bed, he took a look around the unfamiliar environment and realized for the first time in a long time he didn’t need to escape. He almost missed Yassen’s company. Instead of lingering on that thought, he busied himself taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth but no amount of laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling made going to sleep easier. 


	10. A Less Than Pleasant Journey, Part 2

He must’ve closed his eyes for a second because he woke to the sound of the doorknob rattling suspiciously. 

If Yassen was coming back, he would have no trouble opening the door. No, someone was clearly trying to break in and Alex needed to do something fast. 

Yassen told him not to leave the room but did that apply if someone was breaking in? He hoped not. If he had a chance to escape, he’d take it. 

Alex quickly grabbed Yassen’s black duffle and pulled it into the closet with him, praying their was something useful inside to serve as a diversion. Aside from Yassen’s own dental hygiene implements, razor, and soap, the bag was mostly empty. Yassen must’ve taken most of it with him when he left. 

Still, that gave him an idea. He poured some soap in the palm of his hand and mixed in some of his saliva. Breaking the blade from the plastic, he discarded the plastic and sprinted to the door, smearing the soapy concoction on the wooden flooring entryway while digging the blades into the carpet nearby. Returning to the closet and closing the door, he waited. 

The door opened slowly and Alex heard a man with a deep voice speak to someone else. “Rider’s brat has to be in here. She saw him walk in with him.”

He must have then tried walking in because rubber squeaking against wooden floor loudly sounded in the silence of the motel, especially when paired with the sound of something crashing heavily in the entranceway and the yell and curses that followed. 

“Another fucking Rider.”

While the diversion bought him some time, he still had no way out. He prayed Yassen had heard the commotion and would come back for him. The window would be too slow to open and there was only one door out. 

Too quickly the closet door was ripped open and a burly man stood over him menacingly with blood dripping from his leg. “Found him,” he sneered. 

Arm still bound in the sling, Alex kicked at the man, hitting a tender spot from the razor blades, but it only enraged the man more. Alex was deftly picked up by his neck and slammed into the wall. 

His vision went fuzzy but he refused to stop fighting, struggling and clawing at the hand at his throat. When his feet were lifted from the ground, he decided instead to go limp before he ran out of oxygen; he didn’t want to lose his chance to escape later. To have that, he’d need to survive now. 

Whether the man did it out of anger or he wasn’t convinced by Alex’s fainting act, Alex had his head slammed into the wall again, this time knocking him out. 

***

He came to handcuffed to a bedpost and feeling a sense of déjà vu—only this time it wasn’t Yassen walking through the door. Big-and-burly strode through the door carrying a cell phone. 

“Ah, good you’re awake. It’s for you,” Burly said mockingly. 

Alex was still blinking the blurry spots from his vision when the phone was thrust in front of him. 

Bracing it between his cheek and his good shoulder, he heard a familiar voice evenly say, “Alex.”

“Yassen?” 

“Are you hurt?” This wasn’t exactly a tone typically used in those compassionate moments from the movies, but it was Yassen. He shouldn’t be all that surprised. 

He brushed the back of his head with a hand and felt the dried blood caked there. 

True to himself, he retorted, “Well, minus a bit of blood loss, I’m in one piece.”

For a moment, Alex thought the call disconnected because of the silence but then a short, command was heard before it clicked off. 

Yassen’s final words were “Remember your instructions”. 

Burly took the phone from him as he grabbed a handful of his hair and grasped his jaw roughly. “Cossack murdered my brother and now I have something precious of his. He’s a slippery man to track down but every man does have his weakness.” Burly took out a knife and waved it suggestive across his throat. 

“Woah woah woah. At this rate, you’ve both tied me to a bed. I’m not more ‘precious’ to him than I am to you,” Alex said with far more confidence than he felt. 

This seemed to give Burly an idea. “My instructions were to keep you alive so maybe that’s what I’ll do. You’d make a pretty addition to the traders at the dark markets. They always like them young and feisty. You’ll sell for a hefty price.”

Alex ignored the goose pimples on his arm and trudged on. “Sure, sure. Whatever gets me away from you the fastest. You could honestly use a breath mint.”

The man’s malicious grin warped into a scowl. “You brat,” he snarled. As soon as the man leaned in close enough, Alex head butted him.

The man reeled, dropping the knife before grabbing Alex by his neck again, slamming him into the headboard. With his weakened arm he snatched the knife from the bed and plunged it into the man’s neck. 

He was lucky. He was  very lucky. But as the man died choking on his own blood in Alex’s lap, maybe he wasn’t quite  _ that _ lucky. The man’s dead weight was crushing his figure into the bed and his vision swam from the rough treatment. 

He tried reaching out, ignoring the burning pain from his bad shoulder to search the man for the keys to the handcuffs but came up empty. 

Technically, Yassen did instruct him earlier not to leave anyway. Well, he wasn’t getting very far now. He tugged at the cuffs brusquely; being tied up all the time was getting tiresome. 

When he looked around the room and noticed it wasn’t the same motel room they had checked into, his heart dropped in his chest. His shoulder throbbed, a very large man was uncomfortably sprawled across his lower half and bleed out on him, and the cuffs keeping him locked to the bed dug brutally into his wrist. He may be alive and not in immediate danger but no, this wasn’t lucky at all. 

He looked longingly at the curtained off window. Yassen said he’d come back for him at dawn and yet the sun was shining brightly behind the fabric. 

No, of course Yassen would come for him. _He had to_. Alex was sure of it. 


	11. A More Pleasant Journey, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh...2k. I really tried keeping these to 1k but oops! My bad.   
> Anyway, enjoy!  
> -AV

These last few days weren’t particularly conducive to keeping a normal sleep schedule. Alex woke to a hand on his head and he flinched. Startlingly blue eyes looked down on him. “Yassen?” His voice was scratchy and throat felt swollen. 

Yassen only nodded, pulling the dead man off Alex and procuring keys. Lack of blood flow to his lower half for so long left it numb and unresponsive that—even after Yassen freed him from the handcuffs—he struggled to move. 

“Can you walk?” Yassen asked flatly. His expression gave nothing away; Alex wondered if this man was human—the room stank of death and decay and he was barely keeping it together himself. 

Alex nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He refused to look weak. Of course it was all for naught when his knees and ankles failed to work and he fell on his knees on the floor, Yassen catching him under his arms. While his vision swam with the quick movement, Alex tried again to stand. 

“Enough.”

Alex still tirelessly tried rubbing the feeling back in his legs until Yassen ordered firmly, “Remain still.”

Alex blinked owlishly up at Yassen as he watched him readjust the strap of his black duffle before picking him up bodily. Alex could only groan at the movement; all of him ached. Too tired to be embarrassed, he just rested his head against Yassen’s shoulder and drifted off to sleep only to immediately be jolted back awake. 

“Do not sleep.” Yassen actually sounded angry—the first bit of emotion he channeled since stepping in the room. 

Alex grumbled, mumbling breathily “Why d’ya gotta order me around allthetime?”

Soon enough, Yassen was opening the backseat door and setting him inside, handing him a blanket. 

“Are you injured?” Yassen’s tone was the still demanding quality, but Alex noted his eyes seemed softer. 

“My head hurts...a few cuts here ‘n there.” Alex’s head lolled against the headrest as Yassen felt along his legs. 

“The blood?” 

“ _ His _ .” Alex felt his stomach roll at the admission as his mind unhelpfully dragged up the memories but he had nothing left to throw up. 

Yassen nodded, reorienting him and buckling him into his seat.

The next thing he remembered was Yassen waking him and helping him redress into cleaner clothes before he finally was able to fall blissfully asleep again. 

***

Feeling far more rested than normal, Alex woke laying on top of a heavenly soft bed in a bright room as a light breeze blew through the window. He felt ethereal, breathing in the cool air, lying on the softest pillows, and listening to the sounds of the birds outside. It was such a beautiful dream. Nothing could ruin this moment—

The nature sounds were interrupted by a familiar voice speaking Russian quickly. Russian? That didn’t make sense. Immediately his brain produced an almost inconceivable truth: he wasn’t dreaming. 

Sitting up, Alex’s brain was slow to process the rest of the memories: the escape from MI6, Viper, the motel. This was certainly a rough week. Even for him. Though how did they end of here?

Once he heard the call end, Alex called out mumbling, “Yassen? Where  _ are _ we?”

Yassen strolled in regarding him oddly. “St. Petersburg,” saying this as if it were obvious. 

Alex ignored his tone and pressed on, still confused, “Are you here for more work?” He didn’t like the fact that the man must’ve carried him in. How embarrassing. 

Something was off about Yassen and the the reserved way he responded. “No, little Alex. We are here for two days. What do you remember?”

Alex was confused, not particularly enamored with Yassen’s new nickname for him, but answered, “We were driving. You had me change probably so I didn’t look like I walked out of a scene from Carrie. Why?”

“You remember nothing.” Yassen looked uncomfortable at the revelation. “You talked for much of the trip here.”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You suggested the hotel—rather, insisted upon it. We will be here for a few days and you will heal. A doctor will see you tomorrow regarding your head. It is of no matter. Perhaps a shower might be appreciated.” Yassen was strolling back to the door as he spoke nonchalantly. 

Alex looked down and for the first time noticed his hands and feet were still coated densely in blood; he felt sick.Bounding quickly out of the bed, he threw up the little that remained in his stomach before dry heaving. 

Yassen came to the doorway and asked, “Do you need assistance?” Alex shook his head. 

No, this was all getting to be too much. He couldn’t lose track of why he was going through all of this: he would learn the survival basics and get out; that was the plan. He needed not to rely so heavily on him for the little stuff.

Stripping down and climbing into the shower, she scrubbed harshly at all exposed skin, ignoring the stinging along the back of his head and cleaned everything throughly with soap. 

Stepping out, the bandage was peeling off his shoulder from the water. Well, he thought, now was good a time as any to test the shoulder, flexing it experimentally. It certainly was sore but he was pleasantly surprised with its range of motion. Despite everything, it seemed to be healing. The stitches dissolved and the scabs were gone so Alex peeled off and threw away the tape and gauze. 

An enticing-looking white plush hotel robe hung on a hook near the waste bin and he took it, greedily pulling it on. Picking up his old clothes, he stepped out and observed their current living arrangement. It looked almost regal and likely cost a fortune. 

Though considering Yassen was a world-renown assassin with a long career, he was probably rolling in money at this point. 

No. Alex would not be getting involved in any of that lifestyle or at least no longer than necessary. He would learn how to hide and disappear. Maybe even find a small school and a good forger and live a normal life. Yes, that’d be nice. 

Though for now...spotting the plush bedding beneath the chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling in the empty room...he slipped under the covers and buried his face into the overabundance of pillows, willing his mind to forget the worst of the last 48 hours. 

***

Alex felt exhausted both mentally and physically even after his short nap. He started to remember talking to Yassen in the car but he mind still couldn’t put the details together. Part of the conversation had been explaining what happened in the motel so perhaps it wasn’t all bad that his brain blurred the details. Even still, he still couldn’t recall what lead to him requesting any kind of lavish hotel or had any idea of why Yassen would ever agree. At this point, the man likely pitied him; then again, being a professional in his chosen career, Alex couldn’t imagine Yassen feeling pity for anyone. No, he had no idea. 

He considered asking Yassen outright, then dismissed the idea altogether; if he was babbling to the man without a filter maybe it’s best to just let it go. 

Getting up, he padded over in his bare feet to watch the sunset from his window, hoping to distract himself from reality a bit longer. 

But it just wasn’t in the cards for him today. Instead, his door opened and Alex couldn’t help the involuntary flinch at the sound of the door knob turning unexpectedly. “You are awake,” Yassen regarded him evenly. He held up two bags and hooked them on the door handle. “Sleepwear, clothes for tomorrow, and supplies. Food should be here shortly.” 

He didn’t even wait for Alex to respond, merely strolled out and shut the door behind him. Weird, but okay. 

Changing into the pajama pants and tshirt, he left on the robe and stepped out into a lavish common room. 

“What the...?”

He saw a gourmet burger sitting on a tray by one of the couches and noticed Yassen sitting in the corner delicately eating some fish-scented dish while reviewing something on a laptop Alex had never seen before. _Maybe that’s what he was collecting at the motel_ , Alex thought. 

“I took the liberty to order on your behalf. We will need to discuss better ways to meet your dietary needs on a later date.“

Alex’s mouth watered at the scent of the burger. “No, this is fantastic. Thank you.” He looked to Yassen but the man didn’t even look up from the laptop when he spoke to him and oddly, Alex’s heart clenched. Something was wrong and now Yassen was avoiding him. What  _ did _ they talk about? 

He sighed, but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, he sat and ate his burger with caramelized onions, fresh lettuce, bacon bits, and three types of cheese. When he finished, he looked up and was surprised to see Yassen had left the room altogether. Yassen had been unusually personal with him lately. Maybe it was just better this way for the long run. 


	12. A More Pleasant Journey, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day AND they're both 2k. Enjoy. - AV

Alex woke to the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs. He had thought he shut his door before he went to bed but found it wide open come morning. 

Glancing at the clock, he read off 10AM before blearily stepping out of bed and pulling on the robe. 

The common area was notably empty but the steam from the scrambled eggs, sausage and ham was too enticing to ignore. 

Filling up a plate, he settled on the couch and dug in. 

“We will leave in a half hour for your appointment. Be ready.” 

The suddenness and the closeness of voice caused Alex to flinch, but before he could say anything in response, Yassen was walking out the door. Truly, someone needed to put a bell on that man; he moved inhumanly quiet. 

It seemed Yassen would be maintaining his aloof manner for the road trip to the doctor’s as well and Alex tried not to take it personally, even though he had an itching suspicion that it was. 

They pulled up to the back of the hospital and met a lean-muscled man at the back door. He seemed friendly enough—perhaps a bit surprised at seeing Alex—greeting Yassen with a friendly exuberance and disregarding the fact that such exuberance was not reciprocated.  _ Definitely a friend of Yassen’s _ , Alex thought with dry humor. 

“так скоро вернуться?” (Back so soon?), the man asked with a laugh. 

“он слишком часто попадает в неприятности” (He gets into trouble too often), Yassen responded drily with a shrug. 

Yassen’s comment made the man laugh but Alex could only stand back and watch the exchange. Ian taught him many things but understanding Russian was regrettably not one of those things. 

“так ты его держишь?” (So you are keeping him?), the man asked curiously with a smile, leading Alex into an exam room. 

“Я его обучу.Ничего больше.” (I will train him. Nothing more.). 

The man frowned at the comment, clearly unhappy with whatever Yassen said, before addressing Alex. “Hello Alex. I’m Dr. Rogozov but you can call me Sergei. Sit,” he said kindly, patting the exam table. “What brings you in today?”

“My head hurts from—“ Alex started, but Yassen cut him off. 

“He will need a full check-up.”

Sergei nodded politely at Yassen but pressed against Alex’s head until he reached the scab. Sergei frowned. 

“Его голова снова ранена.Почему?” (His head is injured again. Why?). Any friendliness Sergei had at the start of their visit dried up, but oddly enough, the doctor’s ire wasn’t directed towards him but at Yassen. 

Yassen hardly thought it of consequence and answered in a bored tone, “Всякое случается.Он Rider.” (Things happen. He is a Rider.). 

Alex was getting tired of being the middle of this and fidgeted on the exam table, effectively bringing Sergei’s attention back to him. 

He huffed and said softly, “Stitches would have been best but it will be clean and heal.”

Alex was instructed to remove his shirt and the man got to work, testing him everything to muscle weaknesses and irregularities to allergies and disease immunities. He was never asked if he received any vaccinations but he figured it was because they’d test him anyway. 

Finally poked and prodded to death, Alex was instructed to redress and Yassen was called back in to collect him. 

“His nutrition could use some improvement for your standards but Alex is healthy teenage boy. He will likely be taller than you too.” 

Yassen nodded at the information before switching to Russian. 

“А его голова?” (And his head?)

Sergei answered in English this time with a pointed look at Alex. “No more hits to that head. There is no lasting damage but it needs time to heal.” 

The doctor continued, directing his attention to Yassen and offering a hand to shake. “Позаботьтесь о нем.Мир не для тех, кем должен быть.” (Take good care of him. The world is not a kind place to those it should be.)

Yassen took his hand firmly and nodded. “Come, Alex.”

Hopping off the exam table, he was sore from all the assessment. “Uhh...Thanks, Sergei.” Alex offered a hand politely which the man took, humored by the formality. 

“Be safe, little one, and keep him on his toes. It’s good for him.” Sergei smiled and gave him a more informal pat on the shoulder as Yassen strolled out of the room without another word. Though with one glance at Yassen’s retreating form, he only wished he had more of a camaraderie with the assassin. That just wasn’t in the cards for him it seemed.

Oh the ride back, Yassen resumed his aloof manner and Alex didn’t push him into another conversation, choosing instead to lean back and watch the buildings go by. 

That afternoon, Alex changed into his pajamas and slept, mostly out of boredom. Perhaps Yassen was giving him space but he honestly missed their talks about history, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant of aspects of the subject. He missed the company, the conversations. _He missed home_. He missed listening to Tom prattle on about anything and everything, missed Jack reciting some incorrect fact she read in a tabloid about some celebrities over take away. Despite the sunshiny weather, he didn’t feel like being a part of it, choosing instead to close the blinds and bury himself deeply in the covers. 

Later, when Yassen prompted him to eat, he opted not to. Whether it was the poking and prodding from earlier or the mental exhaustion, he just didn’t feeling like eating much today. 

***

Alex woke early in the morning on their last day at the hotel with little further motivation to leave his bed. He had woken abruptly during the night in cold sweats dreaming of someone breaking in. 

Though when he noticed his door wide open and he could hear Yassen typing on his laptop just outside his door, he calmed considerably, falling back to sleep. 

Now he felt almost obligated to leave his bed. Starting with a shower, he changed back into the clothes he wore to the doctor’s yesterday. 

Stepping out into the common area, Alex settled onto the couch not fully sure what he wanted to accomplish. 

Yassen rarely talked to him unless he had a specific purpose to. He seemed to enjoy discussing history. 

“Yassen?” He cringed when his voice cracked. The man didn’t respond either which wasn’t reassuring. “Could you teach me some Russian?” 

Shit. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to ask. Clearly Yassen relied on Russian to talk to his friends—associates?—without Alex overhearing. The uninterrupted typing and continued silence seemed enough of answer. While Yassen seemed selectively deaf in some circumstances, he always was listening. 

Now the silence felt awkward. “Never mind,” Alex said softly, getting to his feet to leave. 

Yassen stopped typing and observed him carefully. “Your training will start tomorrow but an early start would aid in your progress. Sit.”

Alex felt a rush of warmth at the command. “Thank you.”

“Spasiba,” Yassen corrected. 

“Spaseeba,” Alex repeated obediently. 

Yassen drew out the Cyrillic alphabet on a piece of paper and explained the various pronunciations before having Alex learn how to pronounce standard greetings such as ‘good morning’, ‘good afternoon’, ‘good evening’, and even how to introduce himself. Other formalities in the Russian language were covered in detail and Alex was almost overwhelmed by it all, choosing instead to focus the hardest on the words and hoped he have time to review the details of Russian grammar at a later time. 

When Alex’s stomach made itself known because of the late morning hour and last night’s skipped meal, Yassen produced a pamphlet with the hotel’s insignia. 

It was written in Russian and despite learning the very basics of the alphabet, he couldn’t understand a single word throughout it. 

“You will order breakfast.”

“What?! How can I order breakfast when I can’t even read a word of this?”

Yassen deftly took the pamphlet from his hand, pointed to a particular word on the cover, and held it in front of Alex’s face. “Read,” he ordered evenly. 

Glancing down at the characters Yassen wrote and the exampled words he reviewed, Alex said slowly, “Privet?”

Yassen didn’t respond. Only flipping to the back of the pamphlet and held up another word for Alex to read, albeit a tad slower. “Zdravstvuyte.” 

“You can pronounce and understand two words. You will order breakfast.” Alex was spluttering. This was not how he intended this lesson to go. 

Yassen neatly wrote a phrase in Russian on the piece of paper and slowly pronounced it aloud, pointing to each word as he did. “Здравствуйте, хочу заказать два полных американских завтрака.”

Then, Yassen had Alex repeat each word after he said them, correcting his pronunciation when necessary before he had Alex say the phrase in full. After two more attempts with some pointed corrections, Yassen dialed and put the phone on speaker. 

A women picked up and spoke sweetly in Russian something Alex didn’t understand. Looking to Yassen, the man looked at him expectantly. 

“Uh...Zdravstvuytié, hachu zakazat dva polynikah americanzeekah zavtraka.” Alex spoke slowly and nervously. 

The women responded sweetly and slower than before, “Безусловно.как тебя зовут и номер комнаты?” (Certainly. What is your name and room number?) 

Alex recognized that phrase and his brain somehow recalled how to respond. In his excitement, he answered “Oh! Meenya zavoot Alex—“

“Ivanov.” Yassen swiftly cut him off. “В зовут Иванов в комнате 315.” (The name is Ivanhov in room 315). 

“Спасибо.Добрый день, господа.” (Thank you. Good day to you sirs.). 

Yassen hung up and Alex shrank in his seat. He could’ve really screwed up. Yet Yassen didn’t seem mad—Alex remembered well what it was like to make Yassen mad and he didn’t want a repeat offense. The man only nodded impassively before returning to do work off his laptop. 

Alex was still frozen in place. “I’m so sorry,” he said compulsively. 

Yassen stopped typing and regarding Alex curiously. “It will be interesting to see if you pick up on other skills as quickly as you do Russian.” 

Alex almost did a double take. He nearly blew their cover and yet Yassen hardly seemed phased by it. Demurely, Alex nodded and returned to laying on the couch on the other side of the common area until their food arrived.

After a filling breakfast, Alex napped on the couch mentally prepping for the next leg of their journey. 


End file.
